Prism Cloud

by Jeff Wheeler

  The Tay al-Ard.

  “So you truly are abducting me,” Sera said, arching her eyebrows. “Where were you planning to imprison me, cruel Espion?”

  A smile flickered on Trevon’s mouth. “Actually, the hostage will decide that. As long as it is a place that you have already been in this world, this clever device will take you there.”

  He offered it to her.

  Sera took the cylinder in her hand, savoring the warmth his hand had left on it. There were jewels embedded into the caps on each end. It looked like some sort of ancient scroll case. It carried a powerful magic that had no equivalent in her world.

  “Are you sure you want to give this to me?” she asked slyly. “I may not want to give it back.”

  “I trust you,” he said, his eyes gazing into hers. He held out his arm.

  “So in reality, I am abducting you,” Sera said, grinning.

  “Whatever will I do?” he said with a sigh.

  “Come willingly, of course,” Sera said, hooking her arm with his. She examined the jewels on the rim of the device he’d given her. “I don’t press anything. I just think of the place.”

  “Indeed,” he answered, standing very near her.

  Sera imagined the beach of sea glass in Brythonica. She loved the sound of the ocean crashing against the surf and the ancient beads of glass that, with each year, became fewer and more valuable. As she fixed the image in her mind, a trickle of trepidation went through her. Could she truly control such powerful magic? But it responded to her will, and the power of the Tay al-Ard yanked them from the suite.

  In the next instant, she was standing in the sand, her knees wobbling so much she thought she’d faint. Trevon held her upright, his hands on her waist. The air smelled wonderful, the salty flavor of the sea rich in every breath she took, and the sun was warm and radiant. She noticed she was clutching Trevon’s tunic to steady herself and slowly released him, giving him a shy smile as she did so.

  “I see you’re wearing the earrings I gave you,” he said, sounding pleased.

  She started to step away from him, but he caught her arm and extended his palm. He wanted the Tay al-Ard back. She was tempted to run and make him chase her, but she was still too dizzy to risk it, afraid she’d flop down in the sand after only a few steps. She placed it back in his palm, and he pocketed it.

  Guardians protected the beach from those who might steal the precious bits of polished glass, and the glorious stretch of sand and colored pebbles was empty more often than not. Here she felt gloriously free—away from court, away from the uncertainties of her life. She reached out her hand to Trevon, inviting him to walk with her, and they strolled hand in hand. Within moments, sand had crept into her shoes, and so she stopped and pulled them off, one at a time, enjoying the feel of the fine sand beneath and between her toes. She scooped up her shoes with her free hand, and they walked toward the crashing surf.

  A few seabirds appeared to be congregating in the sand near the edge of the surf. There was something there, a blanket and a wicker basket?

  “What is that?” Sera asked, tugging Trevon after her.

  “Let’s go see,” he said. As they drew nearer, the gulls began to squawk in protest and flutter away. Her eyes had not deceived her. There was a blanket and basket, abandoned on the beach.

  “This is curious,” Sera said, looking at him. “I thought you said that this beach was private to the duke’s family.”

  “It is,” he said, nodding. When they reached the basket, she set down her shoes and knelt on the blanket. There was a little hasp that kept the basket closed, and she opened it and lifted the lid, finding a collection of berries, some pears, some Occitanian cheeses wrapped in wax, and a bottle of wine and two goblets.

  She looked at Trevon over her shoulder and found him smiling as if caught.

  “You knew I’d choose this place,” she said accusingly.

  “More like I hoped you would.”

  “Are there other baskets with berries sitting idly elsewhere?”

  He shook his head and dropped down on his knees. “I was fairly confident you’d pick this place.”

  “Fairly confident? Am I becoming too predictable?”

  He began rummaging through the basket. His body emanated a heat that made her want to nestle closer, but she couldn’t be the one to do so. Instead, she turned toward the hiss of the surf. The sight of the green-gray waters lapping against the sand and glass pebbles filled her with awe. There was magic in the ocean, a power both relentless and fierce, only barely tethered. Those in Trevon’s world called it the Fountain. She could appreciate the strength of the legends behind it, though she knew in her heart it was the same power her world knew as the Mysteries. All power came from the same source, the Knowing.

  “Good, no sand in the berries,” he declared after a short investigation.

  “Thank you for thinking of this, Trevon,” she said, turning to look at him. His eyes were peering directly into hers. He moved nearer, just as she had longed to do.

  “What?” she asked, feeling her heart start to race. They had known each other for a year and a half. They had walked hand in hand. He had lightly caressed her sleeve now and then. They had danced at state balls. But they had never kissed. As she stared at him, she realized she wanted him to kiss her.

  There was a warning in her mind, a danger that once they crossed that bridge, there would be no going back.

  He put a hand on her hip, and his touch made her heart pound like the waves on the beach. A feeling of dizziness swept through her. He leaned closer, their faces so near she had to shut her eyes. The aching inside her heart made the distance between them painful. She wanted him too. Without warning, her mind flashed to a memory of kissing Will Russell in the darkness of an abandoned house, the act that had very nearly ruined her. This situation could not be more different. She knew Trevon well, and they’d built to this moment for months and months. Why would that memory intrude on her now?

  She gripped the front of his tunic, closing her fingers around the fabric. Then they were kissing, their lips finding each other at last, and she nearly choked on the jolt of emotions that came from it. Sera released his tunic and cupped his face between her palms, kissing him back with passion and wonder. Every part of her came alive at his touch. They parted, gazing at each other in surprise, and then he kissed her again.

  She didn’t know how long it lasted, only that it filled something inside her soul that had been missing. Her breath came fast, and she blinked rapidly, her eyes burning.

  “I was afraid,” Trevon said, a crooked smile on his mouth.

  “What were you afraid of? That . . . that was wonderful.”

  “I was afraid you’d push me away.” He shook his head. His hand found hers, and he brought her knuckles to his lips again. “I was afraid you wouldn’t want it.”

  “I’m sorry, Trevon. The problem is more likely that I will want it too much. Have you been . . . planning this moment?”

  He shrugged but offered a conspiratorial smile.

  “Well done,” she said, laughing softly. She scooped up a handful of colorful glass beads and stared at them, feeling the grit of the sand on her palm. “But I have to wonder at your sense of timing. Why now? Why today?”

  “I am more than happy to explain,” he answered, shifting closer. She shook loose the pebbles of glass and cocked her head to one side, looking at him curiously.

  “What is that chain?” he asked, looking at her neck. His brows knit in confusion. “You normally don’t wear necklaces.”

  Sera hadn’t intended for him to notice it, but it had slipped free of her dress. She was instantly a little embarrassed. “It is new.”

  “Can I see it?” he asked her.

  She shook her head.

  Then his eyes widened with realization. “It’s a maston necklace. I thought they only gave one to those . . . who passed.” He recoiled slightly. “You took the Test, didn’t you?”

  “I did,” she answered
truthfully. “A few weeks ago. I took it at Muirwood with the younger students.”

  Trevon closed his eyes, his shoulders sagging.

  “What’s wrong?” Sera asked, placing her hand on his.

  “You didn’t tell me,” he said, his eyes still closed.

  “I was planning to,” she said. “I wasn’t even sure I would pass.”

  He opened his eyes, and she saw hurt there. Indecision.

  She reached out and smoothed the hair by his ear. “Tell me.”

  “It would have been easier if you hadn’t,” he said with an anguished voice.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Sera,” he said, taking her hands in his and squeezing them. “I brought you here not just because I hoped to kiss you. I wanted to convince you to marry me. Now. This very week.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CONFLICTS OF LOYALTY

  She felt as if she were at the edge of a cliff, arms wheeling to try to keep from falling. Certainly they had discussed marriage before. He cared for her, and she cared for him, but there was so much at stake, not the least of which was her future in the empire. And yet . . . if she became his wife, she would someday become the Queen of Kingfountain. There was much she admired about the way of life in her adopted world.

  “You could have warned me,” Sera said, feeling the urge to scuttle back from him. His visceral reaction to seeing the maston chain around her neck couldn’t be forgotten so quickly. He was troubled by her devotion to her culture and beliefs. Her confusion, his nearness, the smell of the sea, and her longing to be kissed again . . . it all created a writhing conflict within her.

  “Must everything be so scripted?” he asked, cocking his head. “It torments me when we’re apart, Sera. When I returned from my last visit to your world, I could hardly bear to wait three months to see you again. I’ve been asking myself over and over, why are we torturing ourselves? Why wait until the armistice is about to end to come to terms? I want you now. I want you to be my wife. This isn’t political anymore.” He leaned forward until their foreheads touched. “We have not been impetuous. Give me a good reason why we should wait.” His hand snaked over and caught hold of hers in the sand.

  “The problem is I can think of several reasons,” she said breathlessly.

  He leaned back, looking at her in concern.

  “Lord Fitzroy and I have been making progress on some of the social changes in Comoros. We are seeing results. Repairs are finally happening in some of the more broken-down parts of the City. Orphans are being cared for better. They’re no longer starving.”

  His brow wrinkled. “I don’t think your prime minister plans to halt any of those efforts.”

  “It’s not just that,” Sera said, shaking her head. She wanted to throw her arms around his neck and agree to marry him. But she wouldn’t surrender her own ambitions so easily.

  “Tell me,” he asked softly. There was pain in his eyes.

  “It will not be easy bridging our differences,” Sera said. “I saw your reaction when you noticed this, Trevon.” She tugged at the chain around her neck. “I cannot deny this part of myself. In my world, when a man and woman marry, the rite is meant to last forever.”

  Trevon shrugged. “As it is here. I don’t just want you for a lifetime, Sera. I want you in the Deep Fathoms as well.”

  “Won’t we get a little wet?” she asked, then regretted it. She had been tutored in their beliefs, which no longer seemed so strange.

  Trevon gave her a reluctant smile. “There is more that binds our worlds than separates them. You taught me that. Having you here would only help break down the walls. I think our people would grow to love you as much as I have. Many have already started.”

  It made her ache to hear him say it. She closed her eyes, groaning inwardly.

  “Sera, hear me out. I’ve given this a great deal of thought. I know one of your chief concerns is the succession. You want to become the Empress of Comoros. I don’t fault you for that.”

  “But you do fault me for something?”

  “Stubbornness and pride?” he offered with a tender smile.

  “We both have those in abundance.”

  “Agreed. But listen, I beg you. I know your father is not in the best of health, but he could live another twenty years. Your grandfather lived to be seventy-four, I think, and that was after a long illness. Do you intend to live alone until he dies? If we were to marry now, we could have several children before he dies. An heir for Kingfountain. An heir for Comoros, if needed. With you to raise them, they will be smart and cunning and wise. But let us say your father dies sooner. Would that not give your privy council an opportunity to unite both of our worlds under our leadership? Think of it, Sera! A lasting peace between our worlds. A full exchange of ideas, of belief.” He reached out and traced her jaw with his finger. “I’ll admit, I was startled by your confession about taking the Maston Test. I’m sorry I couldn’t conceal my reaction. I see why you did it. You want to be eligible to rule your people, and you must be a maston to do so. I would also consider . . . someday . . . taking the Maston Test if that’s what it takes for both of us to be eligible to rule your people . . . and mine. So I ask you once again, why should we wait a moment longer?”

  Sera looked down at her lap and then back into his eyes. They brimmed with conviction and purpose. His thoughts were bludgeoning hers, but in a sweet and tender way. This wasn’t a political gambit. He loved her, and he wanted her.

  Oh, Cettie, how I wish you were here to advise me!

  “It’s a bold plan, Trevon. I would adore being your wife, but I don’t think my father would agree to this,” Sera said, shaking her head. “He wouldn’t allow me to marry you unless I abdicate my claim to the throne.” Her smile began to droop. “My father hates me. He still doesn’t believe I’m his true daughter.”

  She watched Trevon’s eyes tighten with anger. “He’s weak-willed and venal. But your system of government keeps his power in check. Without you, we never would have formed this armistice. You’ve more than proven yourself to the privy council. If he tries to sabotage this alliance, I think they would overrule him. He may want us to get married to be rid of you as a rival”—Trevon smirked—“but I think we can outmaneuver him. We are both far better at Wizr than he is.”

  Sera looked down again. The berries caught her eye, and she reached into the basket and pulled out a large, ripe thimbleberry. She held it for Trevon and then pressed it into his mouth. As he ate it, a smile playing upon his lips, he reached into the basket and withdrew one for her. He teased her with it, holding it back and making her lean for it before he finally fed it to her. The flavor exploded on her tongue, but there was another hunger that pressed even more.

  “Do you want to walk along the beach for a while?” he asked her.

  “No,” she whispered. “I’d like to kiss you again first.” Then she wrapped her arms around his neck and sought his mouth with hers.

  Trevon lay on his back on the blanket as she fed him the final berries from the basket. The sun was warm, but the wind was just cool enough to keep it from growing too hot. It had been a languid and pleasurable day, and she was drowsy from having stayed awake so long.

  “You still haven’t given me your answer,” he observed, looking up at her.

  “So impatient, Prince Trevon?” she answered, teasing him with another berry.

  “I think I’ve been remarkably patient. I’ve been waiting for you for years.”

  She stretched out next to him, propping her head on her hand. Such a pose in her world would have caused an enormous scandal, and yet here they were, all alone on the beach. Guards roamed the perimeter, whom she could occasionally see in the distance, but no one had intruded on their private interlude.

  “And I’ve rewarded you with berries,” Sera said impishly. “You should be satisfied.”

  “I don’t want berries,” he said. “I want Miss Fitzempress.”

  “Well, Miss Fitzempress is going to discuss y
our proposal with the prime minister first. Even if I promised you here and now on this beautiful shore, it would not be binding without being sanctioned. I can’t exactly give myself away.”

  He sighed, looking up at the brilliant blue sky. “I suppose that makes sense, but I thought I’d have an answer from you, one way or the other.”

  She touched his nose. “Don’t pout, Trevon. It’s unbecoming.”

  He claimed her fingers and kissed them. “Your neck is looking a bit pink. Perhaps we should return to the palace? You must be tired.”

  “I am weary, but can we walk along the shore first?”

  “If you like.” He rose and then reached down to help her stand, which was very gallant. She left her shoes in the sandy pile, and they walked, hand in hand, along the smooth pebbles of glass and sand. It struck her again that the feelings in her heart were so different from the ones she’d entertained for Will Russell. There was no artifice between her and Trevon. She felt he was acting according to the dictates of his heart. And he had mostly persuaded her. If Lord Fitzroy agreed that the marriage was a sound idea and that her father would not be allowed to disinherit her, then she was ready to concede. She could not imagine anyone else being her husband.

  As they strolled along the beach, they came to the edge of the cliffs that jutted into the waters. The setting reminded her slightly of the beaches beneath Pavenham Sky, though there was less fog and mist in Brythonica.

  “Have you had any success in learning more about Lady Sinia’s disappearance?” Trevon asked.

  The shared history between their worlds contained an overabundance of controversy. One of them, which they’d discussed in the past, was that a previous duchess of Brythonica—the powerful Wizr Lady Sinia—had never returned from a visit she’d made to the empire. It was presumed that she’d been abducted and concealed.